A New Hope
by Saelix
Summary: Narali had been confined to the safety of Eversong so far, but a new friend may give her the courage to change that. A world away, a washed up Priest from Stormwind is offered a chance at redemption, but is that really what he wants? On indefinite hold.
1. Prologue

**A New Hope**

_Prologue_

Silvermoon had always been an interesting place. The entire city was bathed in beautiful red and gold ornaments with fountains and plazas at every turn. The city was magical. Enchanted brooms swept the streets clean while arcane powered sentries towered above all who would dare to break the law. The auctioneers traded magic crystals for gold and sent them to be stored in the bank, where the vaults were charmed to hold more in them than would appear possible from the outside.

Quills wrote little notes here and there with the aid of only the arcane, and around the city people spoke of potions and spells not even noticing the wonder of the magic that made their home so unlike anywhere else in the world. Not that it was particularly wondrous to them. This was normal for Silvermoon. Anyone who lived here understood that the newly restored Sunwell made for an enormous store of power that translated into the little quirks all around them. Yes, this was an average day in Silvermoon City.

And yet, thought Narali, it wasn't quite average. It wasn't normal. It hadn't been for quite awhile. She couldn't place it, but lately home felt less of a comfort and more of an awkward acceptance of hospitality. She used to feel at home here, in each shop and house she entered. She had loved walking through its streets and sitting on a bench by one of the fountains. Not that she was the quiet, walk enjoying type. No, Narali was certainly not that type of girl. She was a Mage.

Technically.

In reality she was more like a child with a stick waving it around than a mage. She would practice her incantations daily, and spent much of her time on those walks thinking about how she could be better, but to no avail. Every now and then however her sparks would give way to a clumsy regurgitation of energy and a fireball would fly out of her palm uncontrollably, usually hitting the nearest window or cart.

Her routine of batting her eyelashes at the angry victims of her mishaps was so frequent that she had mastered it, along with the perfectly cute and apologetic tone of voice that got her out of trouble most of the time. And where that failed, a sizeable chunk of what little gold she had usually did the trick. It wasn't great, but it kept the guards away.

It was on one of these walks that she found herself today. She wasn't ready to go home yet, but the sun had set nearly an hour ago and night was settling in. For all its wonder and glory, nighttime in Silvermoon City was no different than nighttime in any other city, which was to say she needed to begin making her way home.

"_Shari Man'ar_" She whispered the incantation to herself cautiously, as if she weren't sure it would work. To her surprise, tiny flames rose from her hand and licked her fingers. Being a fire mage, they didn't sting her as they would have someone else. An awkward smile cracked her lips as she realized her success.

"_Shari Man'ar" _She said again, this time more confidently. A small pebble formed in her hand for a moment, white hot with sparks flying off of it before vaporizing into the air again. Narali giggled happily and continued walking.

"_Shari Man'ar!"_ She spoke the word louder than she intended to, and as she did felt her concentration crumble. A large fireball appeared at the exact moment she lost her control, and shot off down the street. Her hand shot to her mouth to stifle the squeak that tried to come. She watched helplessly as it tore through a small tent that had been set up before crashing into a column, knocking it out completely and sending the balcony that rested atop it crumbling to the ground, taking with it a nearby supplies cart.

Her head shot around – the street was deserted but it wouldn't be that way for long. She tore off into the night, running at full speed. She turned down an adjacent street just in time to hear the yell of a guard that had come running. Footsteps sounded behind her as she twisted through the alleyways that connected the cities. Ducking into a nearby inn, she waited for the footsteps to fade away before leaning her head back against a wall and exhaling.

"And hello to you too." The innkeeper was watching her with a raised eyebrow, curious but not enough to ask. "I'm sure there's a riveting story here, but I'm afraid I was just closing up. You'll have to leave."

"O-oh. My apologies." Narali gave him a courteous smile and a small bow before retreating back into the night. The guard had passed and as she made her way home the adrenaline died down. By the time she entered the small house in the Court of the Sun, her family was asleep and she knew she wouldn't last long before joining them. As she crawled into her bed, the events earlier ran through her head. _She was always so reckless! It would be the death of her someday. But then… _Narali raised her palm and leaned in, eyeing it carefully as if it were going to jump up and slap her.

"_Shari Man'ar"_ she whispered, almost inaudibly. Tiny flames danced over her fingers carefully, and she couldn't help but grin again. Content, she laid back and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

A world away, a lonely figure cloaked in a ragged hood stumbled through the streets of Stormwind, his own night drawing to a close. Finding a comfortable alleyway between two buildings, he settled in for another night under the sky. _This was the life. He didn't have to worry about possessions or friends or being home at the end of the day. He just needed enough coin for booze and women._ With a soft hiccup and a drunken sigh, he drifted off to sleep, cozy in his little corner of the city.

* * *

**A/N:**

Time for a new story! This is my second story, so while I'm still learning quite a bit about writing I think it will probably show some of what I picked up writing _Warriors and Paladins_. I'm going to _try_ to keep these Authors Notes out of most chapters. No promises (off to a good start though, eh?).

Please review! Let me know what you like, or don't like. I love (constructive) criticism as much as I love praise.

PS – This isn't a sequel to W&P. I don't know when/if I'll be doing that.


	2. A Night in Stormwind

**A New Hope**

_Chapter 1_

Stormwind was a peaceful place at night. It was possible to find trouble if you knew where to look, but for the most part the guards had an unwritten understanding with the scoundrels of the city that made everyone's life easier so long as they stuck to the right parts of town. Nighttime had descended upon the city, and before long it had given way to early morning. The moon still hung low in the sky, and daylight had not yet crept over the horizon, so the passing guards left the passed out drunk alone. After all, a sleeping drunk was far less trouble than a conscious one.

A few minutes before the city began to show the first signs of life for the day he awoke. Jeran Fox didn't know where he was. He didn't remember much about last night and he didn't know what time it was. All he knew was that he had a hangover, a fact that he rudely acquainted a rather unfortunate guard with who happened to be passing by.

Stumbling out of the alleyway, he tripped over a crate and landed on all fours at the feet of the guard where he promptly threw up. "Oi! Watch it!" The guard jumped backwards, eyeing the mess. With disgust, he gave Jeran a kick in the ribs. "Get out of here! Go be drunk somewhere else!" Jeran shakily rose to his feet and watched the man shake his boot off before he turned to walk away, muttering obscenities about people with drinking problems.

With a yawn Jeran turned and began to make his way to the canals. Glancing upwards he noticed the sky fading from black to blue, a sign that the day was about to begin. After a few minutes of walking he reached the Canal where he found the docks deserted. With a quick glance to confirm there were no guards nearby, he began to rummage through the crates and barrels until he found what he wanted – an old fishing pole. He turned and made his way off through the Cathedral district. He had grown up in Stormwind. Though he had left for wars and adventures every now and then, the city was, and would always be his home. Still, he had never really grown fond of this part of town. He found himself cheery again as he passed through the archway marking the end of the plaza.

Turning the corner he found he had nearly reached his destination. It was a large lake that ran from where it met the Canal all the way back behind the Graveyard at the Cathedral. At this time of day, it was deserted, and it made for a pleasant spot to fish, which is exactly what he was intent on doing as he sat down, leaning back against a tree to wait for the first bite.

He had grown accustomed to Sagefish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It didn't taste bad, so he didn't really mind, but after a certain point he stopped enjoying it. Still, it required hardly any work, whereas anything else couldn't be gathered while napping against a tree. As the morning progressed he managed to catch enough for this meal, and the next. What he would do after that he didn't know, but he really didn't plan that far ahead anyways. With his hunger fulfilled for the time being, he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. He drifted off easily, and so when the tall figure approached him he didn't notice.

"Jeran Fox, what in the light have you done to yourself?"

Jeran ignored the man, hoping he would go away, but when he found that his company elected to stay, he opened his eyes and gave an annoyed sigh. "Since you apparently can't see, I was _trying _to sleep, that's what I've done to myself. And the light had nothing to do with it." He spat at the last part.

The figure knelt down in front of him and pulled his hood back to reveal a face Jeran did not recognize. With a grunt Jeran motioned him away. "I have no interest in anything you have to discuss, whoever you, are so go away. I want to finish my nap." The man seemed annoyed and brought his hand up to Jeran's forehead. With a few short words a warm glow flowed from his fingertips, and what remained of Jeran's hangover disappeared instantly. "Surely you remember this?" he said mockingly.

Angrily, Jeran pushed his hand away. "Who the hell are you, and why are you bothering me? Go away!" he exclaimed, furious at the loss of a pleasant nap he knew now he could not reclaim. The mysterious figure stood, looking down at Jeran with a smirk. "Struck a nerve did I? Hmph." Jeran wanted to _knock that pathetic smile off of his damn face_ but he sat there glaring at him, waiting for the next move.

"Since I can see you're busy with such…_important_ business today, I'll get right to the point." He spoke the sentence with a tone of disgust. "There's a job I need done. All you have to do is collect a small item. I need your help to get it." Jeran waved his hand. "Go away. I'm not interested."

The man pulled out a sack of gold. "How much would it take to change your mind?" Jeran shook his head. "More than you've got. I already don't like you, and even if I did I've got better things to do than be someone's errand boy." The man raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Like what? Get drunk and throw up on the guards?" At this Jeran gave a grunt and leaned back against the tree again, closing his eyes. He knew he could not sleep but he hoped the gesture would make the man leave.

"I'm staying at the Lion's Pride Inn in Goldshire." Jeran felt a small thud as the gold pouch landed in his lap. "Come find me when you change your mind." With that he heard the soft crunch of dirt as the man turned and walked away. The whole encounter left him furious. "Who the hell does he think he is?" he muttered to himself. The man was annoying, condescending, even the way he _looked _angered Jeran. If this idiot thought he was getting help just because he was tossing around bags of gold, he would be waiting in Goldshire for a very long time.

Climbing to his feet he picked up the small pouch and opened it up, finding a few gold coins inside. _If nothing else, I'm set for entertainment tonight._ Picking up his fishing pole he made his way to the Dwarven District. It was never too early to enjoy the day. He needed something to settle him down after his encounter.

* * *

Hours later he found himself in his usual state.

As he downed the last of his mug, he tossed it away. "Barke-_hiccup_- Barkeep, s'more ale, pleash." The man held out his hand, into which Jeran placed another gold coin before lifting the frothy mug that was set before him. "Whash the big idea, wak'n a man from hish nap." Jeran said loudly, to no one in particular other than himself. "I wash fine fishin till he showed up." He slammed the mug down angrily on the table. At this the barkeeper glanced over. He motioned to another large man at the bar who turned his head towards Jeran.

The drunkard had a reputation around most of the bars in the city. He was great business for them when he came in, but by the end of the first hour he was either slumped over, drowning sadly in memories he wanted to forget, or else arguing with anything that dared challenge him, usually the nearest chair. On this particular night, he looked to be in an arguing mood.

"And you, whash yur probl'm?!" He jabbed a finger at the barmaid who passed nearby. She gasped and shook her head before hurrying off. At this the barkeeper flipped a gold coin to the large man, a practice he had mastered by now. The man stood up from the bar and began to walk over, catching Jeran's attention. "Got shumthin to say t'me?" Jeran rose shakily to his feet. The man said nothing but picked up what was left of the coins and pushed them into Jeran's hand.

"Wha-hey!" Jeran stumbled backwards as the man put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the door. "Dun mesh with me! Get yur hands – hey!" The man gave a forceful shove, sending Jeran tumbling out the front of the Inn and to the dirt. Before he could get up, he heard a slam as the door closed behind him.

Climbing to his feet Jeran took offense. Rushing the door that _dared_ to slam on him he shouted angrily "Fine! I dun want in th's bar anyways! Shtay...shtay closeded." With the final word Jeran's head drooped and the finger he had been angrily pointing at the offending entryway fell to the side. Glancing around he found the sky had grown dark. The streets were illuminated only by the glow of the moon, and the soft lamps that the guards lit nightly.

"Sugar you look like you could use a friend." Jeran perked up at the soft voice he heard calling to him. "Whatsh'at?" He looked around and saw a dark figure leaning against the side of the building. Casually she stepped forward. "Come on over here. Let's see how much you've got in that little pouch of yours." She motioned for him to follow. "If it's enough, maybe I'll be your friend for the night." She cooed softly. Taking his hand she led him down the alleyway at the side of the bar, around back.

Finding themselves alone she gently pushed him down to the ground, leaning him against a small crate. "Now then, let's take a look." She took the pouch and opened it up. "_Damn, he spent most of it on the alcohol." _ She thought to herself. Still, there was a little bit left, and it was a quiet night otherwise.

"You're in luck sweety, it looks lik-" She was interrupted by a loud snore. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she realized the fool had fallen asleep. With a smirk she rose and pocketed the gold, tossing the empty pouch away. _"Well, that was easy." _She whispered to herself. Making her way back around front, she slipped off into the night alone, leaving Jeran asleep under the stars.

Just the way he liked it.


	3. Training Day

**A New Hope**

_Chapter 2_

Narali awoke the next day early. Dressing quickly, she gathered her wand and a collection of scrolls which bore incantations on them. She wanted to spend the day practicing. After what had happened last night she was more confident than she had felt in a long time. _"I made the fire spell work!" _she thought happily. Her mind flew to the moment in bed where she had finished the spell, watching the flames dance over her palm. She hadn't expected it to work at all. Recently her concentration had been off. She didn't know why, but it probably had something to do with her growing more uncomfortable in the city. That was why she was heading out into the woods for the day.

She had made the spell work; that was the important part. Oh, and she had destroyed part of a building, she thought to herself. She had almost forgotten. Making her way downstairs she pushed the thought from her mind. _She had conjured flames! She knew she could do it! The building had simply been an accident._ She stepped towards the doorway but as she made her bid for freedom she found her path blocked by the looming figure of her father.

"_Sinu a'manore, _daughter. Where are you off to in such a hurry that you can't come see your father before you go?" He was a tall, strong man with flowing blonde hair that fell all around his shoulders, and chiseled features that gave his face a look which augmented his natural posture to create a rather imposing figure that met anyone who crossed him.

He was also a Paladin, and a very accomplished one at that. He had served his people in the Shattered Sun Offensive on the Isle of Quel'danas fighting off the demons. Though he had not been a part of the force that retook the Sunwell, he had helped reclaim the Magisters Terrace, and that deed had earned him and his family their place in the Court of the Sun, a location near the palace usually reserved for nobility.

"I was heading out for the day, father. I didn't know you were up yet!" She knew the last part was a lie. She hadn't intended to dodge her family, but she wanted as much time as possible to train. She knew the next few days would be busy.

Her father gave her a curious look. "Tell me, where is my daughter running off to for the day?" She stepped back and gave a small sigh, resigned to being held up a little while longer. "I wanted to practice my spells again. I won't be able to tomorrow because Magistrix Lesara has asked me to help her at the shop for a few days."

Her father smiled at her. "I see. I won't keep you then. Would you mind running one quick errand for me?" Inwardly Narali cringed. This was why she wanted to get out quickly. It was always a quick errand with them. Her father seemed to understand and his look seemed almost apologetic. "It will be quick, I promise." He held up a hand as if to help his case. She nodded at him, knowing she could not refuse his requests any more than he could hers. "Very well father, what do you need?"

He smiled and pulled out a small letter. "Just run this over to Tynna, the armor merchant in the Bazaar. It's a request for a new pair of bracers. I need a replacement."

It was Narali's turn to impose upon her father's privacy. Taking the letter from him she glanced sideways and asked casually "Oh? Why do you need to replace your armor? Are you planning on running off on another adventure?" He shook his head. "No, not at all, but you never know when it may be needed. The Offensive could send for me at any time." She smiled in understanding and rose as tall as her toes could reach, planting a gentle kiss on her father's cheek before racing out the door. "I'll see you tonight!" she called behind her.

Glancing at the letter she gave a sigh. The Bazaar was all the way across the city. And what was more, she couldn't get back to the gate afterwards without backtracking nearly all the way back again. So much for it being a quick errand.

She set off down the street glancing upwards at the sky. It was turning pink; a natural phenomenon unique to Eversong that told its citizens the sun was rising. The streets were still deserted apart from the odd guard or two, and she made her way across the city with haste. By the time she reached the Bazaar the city was awake, and the first people were making their way out to begin their business.

The Bazaar was a large open plaza with a huge fountain in the middle. All around it, shops lined the walls and in the center was a large auction house. Because of the nature of the area, it was frequently busy, even at night, and it was often the first part of the city for people to appear in early in the mornings.

She looked at the note on the front of the envelope. _"Master Smith Tynna"_ it read. Glancing at the shops she spotted a large sign hanging from one that bore crossed swords over a shield. That had to be it. Stepping inside she saw a female elf working at an anvil. She looked fragile, much too young and weak to be a _master smith. _"Excuse me." Narali said. She nearly had to yell to get the attention of the girl. "I'm looking for Tynna."

The woman perked up. "That's me. How can I help you?" she put down the helmet she had been working on and walked over to Narali. "I've got a letter for you." Narali said, eyeing the woman with a bit of surprise. "From Captain Elashin of the Shattered Sun Offensive." It always felt strange to refer to her father by his title, but the situation sometimes called for it.

The girl took the letter and tore it open, eager to know what brought such a renowned figure to her business. Reading over it she nodded slowly. "I see. Tell him it will take three days. I will send them to him when they are complete." Narali nodded in understanding. "_Shorel'aran. _Thank you."

Narali made her way out of the shop and found many people had indeed woken up and begun their day while she had been inside. The walk out of the Bazaar was uneventful, even if it did take a few minutes. Most everyone around was either not fully awake yet, or else focused on their own tasks. Either way, the square was eerily quiet for the number of people in it.

Turning into one of the large gates that separated each district, she heard the quiet hum of business die out behind her. She left the Bazaar behind and turned down the Walk of Elders, a long street that held her immediate destination – the city gate – at the end of it. She kept her eyes on the ground, lost in thought as she walked and thus did not see the man who impeded her path until after she had bumped into him.

"There you are." He said. She looked up. Before her stood perhaps the only person in the city she did not want to see. Selphius Dawnstrider was a mage, like her. Unlike her, he was a _capable_ mage. They were the same age and had entered into training at the same time. He had excelled in his studies while she had struggled, a fact he noted frequently – much to her annoyance.

"Go away, I'm in a hurry." She said. Her tone spoke volumes about dislike for him. "Come now, for the daughter of a Paladin I should think you had better manners than that." She turned to see him smirking at her. "Oh, it has nothing to do with manners. My father simply suggested I stop wasting my time on fools. I thought I would take his advice." She let the insult fly, and the man in front of her scowled at the remark.

"Is that so? Tell me, what are you spending all your extra time on then? Surely it can't be practicing." At the last words, he motioned down the street where a group of workers were piling rubble onto a cart. She glanced at it and her face turned red as she instantly recognized the destruction from the previous night.

"_Anar'alah belore!_ H-how do you know that was me?" she stammered, failing to create the illusion of confidence she had hoped for. "Hah! Who else could leave such destruction in their wake simply from walking down the street?" He smirked victoriously. With a huff she turned and hurried away. Cursing to herself as she walked she heard him call out to her from behind. Though she didn't hear what he said, she was sure it was not polite and didn't even bother to acknowledge it.

So it was that as the day rolled on, she found herself by a small lake outside of the city. It was the ideal spot for her; it was beautiful, calm, relaxing, and deserted. And if she had another…_accident _there was water nearby. Narali pushed the thought from her mind. Holding her palm up she decided to start with one she already knew.

"_Shari Man'ar."_ Sparks came to her fingertips, but nothing else. Two more attempts brought little progress. She signed and dropped down to the grass. After her father's errand, and the encounter with Selphius, she felt more like a messenger than a mage. She didn't even want to practice anymore. Perhaps she simply wasn't cut out for magic. She held up her hand. Looking at it she wondered how she could ever strike down her enemies with nothing more than a few words.

It was a trademark of the _Sin'dorei_ to produce great mages. Silvermoon was home to arcane masters that knew how to amplify the Blood Elves natural affinity for magic. The city had created Kael'thas – his betrayal aside, one could not ignore his skill – as well as Grand Magister Rommath and Archmage Aethas Sunreaver, among others on a very long list. _But they had all been gifted with truly natural talent._ She thought to herself. To the best of her knowledge, she had no natural skill. She had simply decided one day she wanted to be a mage, and began to learn.

Rising she took one of the scrolls she brought with her and read it over. "Flamestrike eh? This looks fun." Tipping the remaining rolls of parchment out of the bucket she had used to carry them, she dipped it into the water and set it aside, ever vigilant. Focusing all her concentration on the words that were written before her, she recited the spell quietly.

"_Felo'men ashal!"_ At the final syllable, small flames burst from the ground and burned a few blades of grass, but the world remained otherwise unchanged. "Well, I suppose I can at least make a campfire if I have to." She giggled inwardly at her own joke. Perhaps she would save that spell for later. It seemed to be a little more difficult than the others.

As the hours dragged on she continued practicing the various incantations. She began to understand that she had to not simply say the words, but she had to say them _confidently_. Each time she spoke them stronger, and each time the flames in her palm grew a little bit larger. By the end of the day she thought perhaps she could even keep them going for a few seconds.

She glanced up at the sky. The sun was beginning to droop low in the sky and she knew her time training was almost over. She gave a tired yawn and sat down by the lake. Removing her boots she rolled up the legs of her wool pants and let her feet dangle casually in the water. She knew her mana was depleted and the lake felt refreshing.

Gazing at the sunset, she wondered what else the world held. Silvermoon was big, and with the guard patrols she felt safe traveling all around Eversong, but she could be anywhere within the territory in a few hours. Quel'thalas had grown much smaller after the Ghostlands was lost to the undead, and though she loved her home dearly, she was beginning to feel trapped there. She wondered what life was like outside of the woods.

She knew it would be a harsh world – there was the Alliance, and her father's army had just finished fighting off the Burning Legion and Kael'thas. What would they be like? She had never even seen anyone of the Horde's other races, let alone a member of the Alliance! It wasn't safe to travel out into the world, she knew that. And yet, somewhere deep down she accepted the risk.

She _wanted_ danger. Each time one of her errant Fireballs caused destruction in the city, it filled her not only with fear of retribution, but with adrenaline. It gave her a rush to see buildings crumble and people dodging. Not that she wanted to _hurt_ anyone, but it was just so wild.

Narali tossed a rock into the water. Thoughts like this were exciting to her, but they were also depressing. She knew she could not survive in the world like this. She would probably never set foot outside of their homeland, and yet here she sat training as if she was off to save the world.

The soft, almost inaudible snap of a twig behind her caused her head to jerk around, looking for an intruder. "Who's there?" she called nervously. Holding her hand out as if brandishing a weapon she spoke again, "Come out, now!"

Cautiously a hand appeared from behind a nearby tree. A few moments later a scared looking rogue followed it. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to startle you." He said. Narali lowered her hand. "_Anaria shola. _What business do you have here?" The rogue looked her over carefully, trying to decide if she was a threat or not. His voice seemed more stable when he spoke again. "I was heading to Silvermoon, but I became thirsty. I decided to stop for a drink but turned around when I realized you were here. That's when you heard me." Motioning toward the water with a sigh, she said "Have your drink then; I was just leaving for the city myself." She lifted her feet out of the water and slipped her boots back on, rising to her feet.

Kneeling and pulling out a small canteen he glanced sideways to her. "Would you like some company? I can drink while I walk." She raised an eyebrow at him. It was later than she thought. It wasn't far to the city, but the guard patrols were less frequent outside of the gates. Perhaps it would be wise to travel together. "Sure, why not." She shrugged. As he picked his gear back up he strode aside her and spoke casually, the tenseness of a few moments ago forgotten.

"My name is Vaeren'thor, but you can call me Vaeren." She nodded at the introduction. "I am Narali. What are you doing out in the woods this late?" To this the rogue patted a small bag he was carrying. "I was sent to collect some herbs for someone. I had hoped to get back before night but I suppose it's too late for that now. I'll have to turn them in tomorrow. What about yourself?"

"I was practicing my spells; I'm a mage." He nodded in understanding. "I see. Why not simply make a portal home then?" Narali bristled at the statement. "Perhaps I simply don't want to!" She could not hide the insult she felt. Vaeren looked taken aback. "Oh - my apologies then."

Narali looked down as they walked on in awkward silence. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not quite experienced enough to make portals yet." He shrugged. "It's ok. I understand. It's difficult to get better when no one trusts you with real work." He jerked his thumb at the bag of herbs. Narali grinned. "Tell me about it. One of these days I'm just going to run off. Who needs their grunt work anyways?" Vaeren laughed at the joke. "If only we could, huh?"

The conversation returned to normal as they approached the city gates, and before long they found themselves inside Silvermoon. They said their farewells and Narali made her way back to the Court of the Sun, where she knew her family would already be asleep. Quietly she entered her house and made her way to her room. Replacing the scrolls, she yawned sleepily. The spell casting had made her more tired than she thought. A moment later she had changed, and slipped into bed.

As she began to drift off, her mind wandered through the day's events. The lengthy errand and the encounter with Selphius had been unfortunate, but apart from that it had been an interesting day. She had grown better with one spell and learned another, had a relaxing day by the lake, and had made a new friend. She fell asleep easily, dreaming of magical spells tearing through enemies deep in imagined dungeons.

Across the city, Vaeren strode through Murder Row where he ducked into an alley beside a building. Hopping onto a nearby crate, he gained a foothold and leapt up to a balcony before jumping to a nearby roof. A small collection of boxes were arranged to provide him some privacy in his makeshift "home", but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary would alert anyone that he spent his nights here. He lay back, gazing at the stars and thinking of the girl he had met earlier. She certainly seemed interesting. He wondered if they would run into each other again.

His mind had buzzed earlier at her comment about running off; he desperately wanted to leave Silvermoon and explore the world. He pushed the desire from his mind. The world was cruel, and he was not ready for that yet. One day perhaps he would go out into the world maybe, but not yet.

In the city of Silvermoon, two sleeping elves had no idea just how quickly that day would come.


	4. Mrr!

**A New Hope**

_Chapter 3_

Jeran awoke late the next morning – or was it afternoon? As he stood up, he felt the familiar sting of another hangover and wobbled uneasily. He glanced around. He was behind a bar. He didn't remember why but it was probably the same story as usual; alcohol and women until he passed out. He spotted the small coin pouch on the grass nearby. Empty. It was definitely alcohol and women then.

With a yawn he spotted a water barrel nearby and a few seconds later he was headfirst into it, the rest of his lethargic trance washed away in the cold water. Shaking out his wet hair he noticed the sun high above, which put the time around noon, and the rumble of his stomach that followed shortly after confirmed the length of his sleep. He walked around the bar to the street and decided to step inside for food.

At the sound of someone entering, the barkeeper looked up lazily, but when he realized who it was he simply returned to his business. Jeran strode up the counter and got the man's reluctant attention. "Barkeeper! What have you got today?" The man looked up at Jeran and shook his head. "Nothing, if you haven't got enough gold left over from last night."

_"Damn." _ Jeran thought. He rose to follow the barkeeper along the counter as the man walked away, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation. "Come on, haven't you got a bit left over that no one wants? A man's gotta eat!" Jeran asked. The barkeeper shook his head. "Find somewhere else to eat then. I've got nothing for you."

Jeran signed and turned away. As he did so he spotted a small satchel on a nearby table, which was unbuttoned to reveal a loaf of Spice Bread sticking out. A small smile came to his lips. _"A man's gotta eat." _he thought to himself. He waited until the bartender turned away again and then with a jump in his step he took off. With a quick grab, he had the satchel and the bread in his hand. Bounding over the table he made it to the front, turning the corner towards the door when a hulking figure stepped in front of him.

The appearance of a surprise obstacle knocked Jeran off his balance and sent him crashing into a wall and down to the floor. Before he realized what was happening, the bruiser from the previous night tore the bread away, grabbed him by the neck, and tossed him unceremoniously outside of the bar and to the dirt for the second time in as many days. "And stay out!" he heard, before the door slammed behind him.

With a grunt Jeran rose to his feet, brushing himself off. _"I guess it's an honest day's work for me then."_ he sighed to himself. He made his way towards Old Town. The district was the home of SI:7, and the Command Center. They often had mundane jobs that they couldn't or wouldn't trouble their own men with, so naturally the tasks fell to the cheapest work around – Jeran. _"Or that fool Topper McNabb"_ Jeran thought with disgust. To anyone else the thought might have been comical; the homeless of Stormwind as archrivals. To Jeran however, there was nothing humorous about _McNabb_. Disgusting, hateful, and pathetic perhaps, but not humorous.

He sidestepped a puddle near the fountain before walking up the steps to meet his usual _employer_. The man was an agent of SI:7, and could frequently be found loitering near the small square when there was work to do. The rogues preferred that Jeran and his likes remain outside of their barracks, so it was easier for him to simply wait outside near the fountain.

"Osborne!" Jeran gave the man a wave. "Got anything for me today?" he asked hopefully. Osborne waved him over. "That I do mate - here." He pushed a small scroll into Jeran's hand. "Important business, get it to the librarian near the Stockade quick." Osborne waved his hand before turning away. "His name's Adair Gilroy. He'll see to your payment." With that he walked away, back towards the large building that housed his organization.

Jeran turned and began to walk away. He eyed the scroll casually, wondering what was so important about it. He was just considering stopping to read it when the rumble of his stomach changed his mind. He wanted to get this done with and get on to his meal. He turned out of Old Town and followed the Canals around the edge of the trade district before crossing the bridge towards the Mage Quarter.

By the time he reached his destination, the day was drawing to a close as the blue sky had begun to grow darker. Stepping inside the small library he saw a man – Adair Gilroy he presumed – hunched over a scroll writing furiously. He stepped up to him, making his presence known but the man did not acknowledge him. Jeran cleared his throat and the man raised his head and gave him a look of utter annoyance. "What?" he asked angrily.

Jeran held out the scroll to him. "Message from SI:7." He stated simply. The man returned to his work. " Put it on the desk over there. He jerked his thumb across the room. Jeran did so before returning to the man who, after a few moments sighed and raised his head again. "Why are you still here?" Jeran held out his hand. "I was told you would handle my payment?" The man grunted and shook his head. "No payment. The message was supposed to be here yesterday. It was late."

Jeran's outstretched palm clenched into a fist. "What! I just got the job today! How the hell was I supposed to get it here yesterday?" he exclaimed angrily. Adair shook his head. "I don't know, and it's not my problem. It was late, so no payment. Leave."

Jeran pounded a fist on the table, interrupting the man again. "The hell I will! Give me my money!" the man rose angrily. "Or else what? You're asking for trouble if you think the guards will take kindly to an SI:7 errand boy bothering the work of a mage." Jeran said nothing but gave the man a look which spoke volumes to his anger. The librarian continued "I suggest you leave now, before they have to get involved." Jeran still said nothing but stood still, desperately wanting to rip the man apart. "Get. OUT." The mage's words carried an arcane force with them that swept Jeran a step backwards.

Angrily, he spat at the man before turning and walking away. Stepping out into the street his stomach rumbled again, emphasizing his predicament. It was too late to find more work today, and he still had no money. He was starving. He thought back to the previous day. It had been midmorning when he ate, and after that he had moved on to the bar, where he probably consumed little other than alcohol; hardly enough to satisfy his hunger.

He turned towards the trade district, rummaging through his pockets as he walked. His fingers closed around something small, and he pulled it out to reveal the empty pouch that had previously held the gold. He paused, remembering the conversation the day before. The man had been annoying, that was certain. He had also seemed to know more about Jeran than made him comfortable. But Jeran needed food, and to get that he needed gold. The man had gold.

With a sigh he tossed the empty pouch away, and turned towards the city gate. The sun had just set, and Goldshire was an hour's walk away. Perhaps he could find the man before the night was out. If not, he knew he would be going hungry that night.

* * *

Groggily Narali rose from her sleep. She had been having the most wonderful dream. She had found herself at a small waterfall. Bathing in it, the unusually warm water had curled over her skin and run through her hair, causing an unbelievable sensation that could not be matched. It was unfortunate she had woken up from it.

Glancing out the window her pleasant memories faded instantly with a shock as she saw people in the streets below. "_Anar'alah belore. _I'm late!" she flew through her routine of dressing, and out of her house before turning down the street. She went as fast as her legs could carry her towards the Bazaar, where a few minutes later she stumbled through the door of the small tailoring shop. Magistrix Lesara looked up with a smile. "Good morning, Narali."

"_Sinu a'manore_! I'm sorry I'm late!" Narali gasped. Lesara laughed gently. "Don't worry about it. Things have been slow so far today." She put a comforting hand on Narali's shoulder. "Thank you for helping me today. Come, I'll show you what to do." She led the Mage over to a small corner of the shop.

"You have done tailoring work before?" She questioned. Narali nodded her head. She was not an expert tailor but she could make simple things. It was an art she hoped to perfect, as a mage. "Good. Most of this is simply repair work. It's not all cloth – there are a few leather pieces as well that need the stitching replaced, and one with some nasty gashes, but it should be easy enough." Narali nodded again as she sat down at the table. "Thank you, I will try to get them done quickly." Lesara smiled and nodded before returning to her own work, a beautiful white gown that Narali assumed meant someone would soon begin the married life.

Working through the pieces she found most of them were quick to fix. Many of the items had simple tears that came with age. A few of the heavier pieces bore larger rips, and Narali wondered about the story behind each of them, but those pieces were too few to make the work interesting. After awhile she looked up. It was mid-day. At the same time, Lesara rose and gave an exclamation, looking down at her work. "Done!"

Narali went over to look at the dress. It was certainly the work of a master. It looked perfect! Someone would surely find it a great addition to their wedding day. "I've got to take it to the woman who ordered it." Lesara said. "Can you watch the shop until I return? I can handle the rest of the repairs after that." Narali nodded. "Of course. Take your time." Lesara packed the dress up and threw her cloak on. "I'll be back in a bit!" she said before turning off. Narali waved and then settled in to continue the work.

It wasn't long before she heard footsteps. "Back so soo-?" she started, but stopped upon realizing that the person standing before her was not Magistrix Lesara. "Oh, sorry." It was a tall man with a hood thrown over his head who had entered the shop. "Can I help you?" she heard a laugh and his hands went to the cloak, pulling it off to reveal someone she had not expected. "Vaeren! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

He gave a chuckle. "I had a tunic in for a bit of repair work. I'm surprised to find you here as well; I didn't know you were a tailor." She nodded. "I'm not usually here, but Magistrix Lesara asked me to help today since she had a large request." She snapped up at a small realization. "Here! This must be yours." She pulled a leather tunic that matched his other pieces out of the middle of the pile and handed it to him. It had been one of the more annoying ones to fix. Several rips ran straight up the back. She had wondered at the time why the owner simply did not replace it.

"So what happened? It was almost torn to shreds!" she asked curiously. Vaeren glanced away and turned slightly pink. "A Lynx wanted my herb." He said quietly. She grinned. "Looks like he probably got it too." She said with a laugh. "Bah! I thought I could take him!" he argued before bringing his hand to his forehead. "It was horrible. He jumped out and startled me, I tripped over a rock, and fell straight onto the herb." He shook his head. "I'm a terrible rogue."

Narali giggled again and patted him on the shoulder. "It's ok, I understand. Have you been down the Walk of Elders lately?" he nodded. "Yes actually; I had to go through it on the way here. Why? Know anything about the mess there? Some building seems to have taken quite a hit." Narali blushed brightly. "Perhaps I do. Just be glad your Lynx encounter didn't destroy a building." Vaeren laughed. "I suppose you're right. Anyways, here." He said, placing his payment on the table.

"Say, do you think I could join you next time you go out to train?" he asked. She looked up, surprised by the question. "Sure, that would be great! Maybe we could both learn something from each other." He gave a large smile and nodded. "When are you going next?" he asked. "Hmm." She said. She hadn't really thought about it. "We could go tomorrow." She stated. Vaeren nodded happily. "Sure, I'll meet you at the city gate in the morning!" he said. "See you there!" she called to him as he turned, before he disappeared into the crowd.

The rest of the afternoon was rather boring for her. Magistrix Lesara returned and took over the rest of the work, freeing her to wander around the city bored. She had decided to browse the goods at the Auction house, and though there was little that she could find useful in training, she had found one thing she simply could not resist – an adorable Celestial Dragon whose owner had been too overburdened with other pets to keep him. It had cost her nearly forty gold but the creature was now flying happy circles around her as she walked, and rubbing against her shoulder happily.

"Wha-hey!" she giggled as it circled her once more before flying under her arm and coming to rest on her shoulder with a soft "mrr!" She ran her fingers over it gently. Though it was translucent and bright starry orbs outlined it, the creature was still solid and from the noises it made, seemed to very much enjoy her petting. "I think I'll name you Mishi!" she said. "Come on Mishi, let's go home." She laughed as they made their way back to the house.

The rest of the evening went by quickly. Her Mother instantly fell in love with the small creature while her father seemed to think it was rather aloof, but warmed to it after Mishi did his circling routine around him. Grinning happily, Narali made her way up the stairs to her room where a few minutes later she found herself in bed, another day completed.

* * *

Farther South, in the land of the humans, Jeran found himself walking quicker as the glow of the Lion's Pride Inn came into view in Goldshire. He wasn't particularly thrilled about what he was about to do, but he knew he needed the man's job to make ends meet. He hated being hungry more than he hated swallowing his pride.

Stepping through the doorway, he cringed as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light that contrasted with the darkness outside. It was a small building, and it took him only seconds to spot the stranger he was looking for. The tall man wore the same robe as yesterday, and glanced up as Jeran had entered. When they made eye contact, he gave a victorious smirk and patted the table, as if Jeran were a puppy whose master knew it would come when called. Already he was starting to regret the decision to come here.

He took a seat across from the man, but said nothing. Each waited, not wanting to speak first, but yet again the stranger claimed even this small victory when Jeran's rumbling stomach gave away his desire. "Alright, I'm here." He said simply. The man smirked. "So it would seem you are. I presume it is because of the sound I just heard, rather than a true change of heart?" he said. Jeran nodded. "Very well." The man stated. Motioning to the waitress he called over a succulent meal of Roasted Boar Meat and Moonberry Juice, which was set before them.

Jeran wasted no time in devouring the peace offering, and a few minutes later found himself in much better spirits. A small movement by the stranger brought his attention back to his purpose in Goldshire. "Now then, there's this matter of the job to discuss." the man said. Jeran nodded, too stuffed to say anything. The man leaned in carefully. "It will pay you well. A meal like that could certainly become a nightly occurrence if you wanted, as could many other things." He said.

Jeran raised an eyebrow. "You say it's an easy job? he asked. The man nodded. "And it pays well?" - Another nod - "And you mentioned you need me specifically?" the man nodded a third time. "What's the catch?" Jeran asked quizzically.

The man spoke slowly. "It is not Jeran Fox the drunkard that I need." He said. "The man I need is Jeran Fox, the former Priest of the Alliance."


	5. Practice, and a Priest

**A New Hope**

_Chapter 4_

To her pleasant surprise, the morning found no delays for Narali, and so with a sense of excitement she and Vaeren had now made their way out of the city and back to the lakeside.

Vaeren had taken up practicing his stealth. Narali would close her eyes and count to ten, before opening them again to look for her companion. If she saw him, she would attempt to conjure a (small) fireball as punishment. If he could elude her, he would try to sneak things out of her pockets or the heap of gear that had been dumped unceremoniously aside upon their arrival. The only rule was that he had to keep moving.

She dutifully scanned the nearby trees but found no hint of her friend – he was getting better, she thought. But no sooner had the thought left her mind than she heard the faintest hint of a twig snapping behind her. She whirled around and let fly with a fireball – or at least a few sparks that were supposed to be a fireball. Angrily she shook her hand before conjuring the large circle of embers that covered the ground under him. Her focus seemed to hit just right as the tiny flames licked his feet.

Vaeren hopped around before tumbling away. "Yow! Hot! Hot!" The sight of him sent her into a fit of laughter, causing the heat to die out almost immediately. He rolled over with a sigh and sat back, exhausted. They had been at it for quite awhile. Narali strolled over and plopped down next to him, gazing over the lake and into the woods.

"I need a break." He stated. She nodded in agreement and lay back on the soft grass. "So how long are you going to keep doing this?" she asked him. "Doing what?" he replied, confused. "Practicing." She said. "Don't you think it's boring? Being cooped up in the city, only ever able to practice." As she spoke he nodded. "Practice for what?" she continued. "For more practice?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I feel like the world would swallow us whole if we stepped outside of Quel'thalas, but I know we can't stay here forever." He said. "But look at me. I'd be eaten alive in an instant if I wandered off." She nodded sadly. They were the same in that regard.

Rising, she casually turned around, looking at her surroundings. The lake was large, running along the western edge of Eversong. It trailed down into the Ghostlands and towards Zul'aman. The old troll city had once held its share of inhabitants, but it had long ago been ransacked, and all that remained now were a few stragglers who had not been found at the time.

A small grin came to her lips as she turned to Vaeren. "Come on." She motioned. He looked up confused. "What? Where are we going?" he asked, climbing to his feet. She took off excitedly towards the ruins as she called back to him.

"We're going to put our practice to use!"

* * *

Jeran sat across from the mysterious man that had caused him much confusion lately with a scowl plastered across his face. "Aye, I was a Priest, in another life. What makes you think any part of that still exists within me? Or that I would want to bring it out again even if it did?" he asked. "It's a choice I made long ago that leads me to sit here in rags instead of robes, and not one I'm particularly keen to change my mind about."

The stranger listened quietly before replying. "Yes, that much I understand well – and a great deal more. But you are still a priest. Men give up on the light all the time, but the light has never given up on a man. You still hold the same power, the same command over it that you did the day you thought you cast it out. Like you, I care not for the teachings of the light, or its proper usage." He continued. "I care about its power. The power of the light is unrivaled. With it you can cause or repair great harm. You can control your enemies or sooth their aggression. You know all of this well." He stated with a casual wave of his hand.

Jeran simply nodded before speaking. "And yet I fail to understand how all of this has anything to do with me. If you want someone to light the lamps at night, find an altar boy." The man laughed softly. "No Jeran, it is not the lighting of lamps that I require. It is an art that you mastered once; something that very few people can do." As he spoke, the faintest realization began to dawn in the back of Jeran's mind. "What I need is the power of resurrection." The man finished.

Jeran's mind exploded in a daze of memories. He had forgotten about resurrection. It was an art that came naturally to a few, including him, but most followers of the light never fully mastered it. The majority of those who could "cast" it did nothing more than simply pray to the light and ask for the return of the soul to its body, but true resurrection – _his _resurrection – was more.

Jeran did not ask the light. He reached into the spirit world and took the soul. He placed it back in the body and he returned his charge to the world of the living. He truly was one of the few masters of resurrection. Or he had been.

The small smile that had formed on his lips faded back to his usual scowl. "I told you, that was another life." He stated quietly. "Even if I wanted…" his voice trailed off. Jeran had lost his touch. He had known it for some time now. Since the day he turned to alcohol, he had told himself he didn't care. The light had cost him _everything_. What did it matter if it was gone? He wanted it gone!

And yet, the thought disturbed him, perhaps because of the words of his mysterious companion – "Men give up on the light all the time, but the light has never given up on a man." – Or perhaps because deep down he missed…

_NO!_

He banged his fist angrily on the table at the thought. Him miss the touch of the light? Never! He missed the power; that was all. He looked up across the table. This man was more like him than he had thought. So he wanted to use the power of the light? Fine, Jeran would help him. He had money; Jeran had the power of the light. They would do business, and that was all it was.

"Alright mate. I'll do it." He nodded. The man had watched the entire scene patiently. He recognized an inner struggle when he saw it. "Good." He said as he leaned in.

Jeran sat back in the chair. "What's the job? A resurrection obviously." He said. The man nodded. "Yes. As I told you, it is very simple." He stated, leaning back. "You travel to the grave site, conduct the resurrection, see to the return of the person's health, and then you can be on your way." He said. He motioned with his hands as he spoke, and Jeran thought he was trying to sound persuasive; a job was never that simple.

"What's the trick?" he asked cautiously. The man smiled and shook his head. "No tricks, no catches, though you'll need to travel quite far." He stated. "How far?" Jeran asked him. "Outland" his partner stated. Jeran would have done a double take if he hadn't been sitting. "Outland?! Just what the hell happened to the 'quick' part?" The man held up his hands to calm Jeran. "I assure you, you will be fairly compensated for your work." He said. Jeran gave no reply but sat with his arms crossed.

After a moment the man continued. "The story goes that a dear friend of mine was attacked by a dark cult in the Blades Edge Mountains. She was on a mission from the Cenarion Expedition in Zangarmarsh, where she went after her deployment with the Stormwind Military ended. Sadly, she succumbed to her wounds and died." He said. "We were very close, and I have traveled far to find someone capable of returning her to my side, but there is a catch; one I'm sure you know well." He stated sadly.

"Aye, most people can only resurrect those they have a personal bond with." He replied. "That's the limit of 'simple' resurrections. If you're asking the light, you'd better have a connection with the person. " At this the man nodded. "Which is why I need you. You can perform the services without the required bond." Jeran nodded silently.

The man rose from his chair and looked at the fire – it had died almost completely out over the course of the night – before turning back to Jeran. "You have a room for the night here. Come down for breakfast tomorrow morning and I will give you any further details you require." He said. With a slight bow he placed a small sack of coins on the table. "Do not spend it all on drink tonight. There will be time for that later." He said, before turning away to retreat to his room.

Jeran sat quietly for a few minutes, turning the encounter through his mind. The man was making great efforts to hide the details from him; that much was obvious. He wondered if the story had been true. Then again, why did it matter? As long as the payments continued, he didn't much care what the man wanted. Though he decided he did want to know more about his…employer…before he went much further.

With a yawn he rose. That was a conversation for tomorrow, anyways. Tonight at least, he had a bed – and he planned to enjoy it.

* * *

**A/N:**

Fun fact: This chapter was written in five cities over two countries and almost 3500 miles. Hooray traveling! It's tough to keep the plot straight with such a wacky schedule but I think this chapter isn't too bad. I'm hoping to get a few major plot points out soon, and I expect the chapters will probably start getting a bit longer too.

I'm also probably going to end the practice of writing both storylines into one chapter. It makes a good way to combine small plot points together, but I don't want it to become normal for this story.

Thanks to everyone who has read this. Please review! Let me know what you think!


	6. Zul'aman

**A New Hope**

_Chapter 5_

Zul'aman was an interesting place. It jutted into the mountains along the Eastern edge of Quel'thalas as if it had been placed there forcibly, slapped roughshod into its position against the wishes of the surrounding terrain. The main part of the city lay south of Eversong, in the Ghostlands, but the small huts and campsites that had been constructed over years of expansion stretched along the lakeside far to the north, into the golden forest that had held out against the scourge corruption so many years ago.

To their credit, the trolls that had once called it home had done quite the job of making it their own. The roadway leading to its massive gate was flanked on either side by large waterfalls, and the entrance itself was a hulking wooden gate that needed no words to express the danger that lay behind it to those who dared venture to the troll city. Every part of it, from the village huts down to the very cut of the stones that lined the steps at the entrance was troll in origin.

It was a stark contrast to the Sin'dorei influence that flowed over the landscape of Quel'thalas; even the trees seemed locked in an eternal cultural struggle – the tall, proud oaks of the Eversong Woods that shined white and radiated arcane energy versus the dark triangular pine trees that dotted the territory of the trolls and cast dark foreboding shadows on their homeland.

It was in these shadows that the two elves now found themselves hiding. Narali had been overcome with the purest desire for excitement, adventure, _anything_ that would mean they didn't have to return to the mundane life in Silvermoon just yet. She didn't think about the time, not noticing that the sun had long fallen and the sky faded to black. She didn't think about where they were, not realizing that their trail had ventured farther south than she had intended, well into the Ghostlands. She didn't think of their goal, not worrying about when they would complete the adventure. All she knew was that Zul'aman had once held action; a fierce battle among the true warriors of the horde and the trolls that had tormented her people for generations, and she wanted to see it.

"Psst. Vaeren!" she whispered to him. "Look at this!" she motioned to her friend who scrambled quietly out from behind his tree over to her, and his gaze rose to where her finger was pointing. It was a small hut with darkened windows which told them it was unoccupied. With a gaze, Narali decided the coast was clear and dashed over to it, ducking down below the opening.

Peeking over the top edge, she looked inside and decided it was safe; cobwebs lined the corners and the dust was visible. This particular hut had not been inhabited for some time, it seemed. Not that she would have known what she was looking for to begin with. Narali had heard stories of the trolls much the same way she had heard stories of the other races, but had never actually seen one.

Ducking inside the hut she exhaled softly before a small noise told her Vaeren had joined her. "Look at this! It's like they just picked up and left in the middle of the day." She said. True to her word, small trinkets and tools were scattered over the floor. A chair was toppled and small wooden bowls sat on the table, stained with the remnants of a final meal that had been interrupted.

"This is incredible. They must have been so primitive." She said, picking up a figurine from the floor and dusting it off. "Look around. No books, no magical glyphs. How did they organize their whole city?" she wondered aloud. Vaeren shook his head "I don't know. I can't imagine this is it, though." He said. Narali perked up. "You're right, there must be more!" she exclaimed with a small squeal. Vaeren wheeled around. "What? No! Narali, it's not safe!" hearing her full name grounded her slightly. That was right; they hadn't known each other very long. He wouldn't use her nickname. "Vaeren please, call me Nara." She said with a wave. "We wanted an adventure right? Didn't you just say earlier that you wished you could see the world?" she tempted him.

He glanced around, taking in the setting. "I suppose I did. I'm not sure about this though. Do you really think we're ready? What if we find a troll?" he asked. She shrugged. "There aren't many trolls left; the guards still patrol this area to make sure –wait…_this area_…where are we?" she gasped, panicked.

"_Anar'alah belore, _we're in the Ghostlands!" she exclaimed, looking out the window and taking in her surroundings for the first time. Her voice was different. It wavered, not with fear but with energy. She couldn't believe it; accidental as it may be, they were on an adventure. Home was North, farther than they realized.

Vaeren stumbled backwards a bit. "W-what! How did we get down here?" he cried. She shook her head and paused slightly, thinking before turning to him. "Come on. We're here. This whole place is ours to explore. We probably won't even see a troll, much less have to confront one if we do. Let's do this." She set her gaze, as if to impress upon him that her words were not a request so much as an order, and was pleased when his own gaze hardened. "Right, we can do this. Just explore a bit, and then we're out." Together, they nodded.

Quietly the two stepped out of the hut and began to creep towards the rest of the village. As a whole it seemed abandoned, most likely during whatever great emergency had called the hut's owners away. Still, the eerie darkness made them aware of the possibility of a troll confrontation. The fear of danger was easily pushed aside with the rush of exploration for Narali. She was still in Quel'thalas, still so close to her homeland, and yet it felt like she was a world away.

She had never seen this part of the land before; the farthest south she had ever been was just to the border of Eversong along the lake. Now however, they were here; this was the feeling she craved. This was the feeling that she was lacking in Silvermoon, and the reason she had grown unhappy there.

She loved every second of it.

They stepped through the center of the camp, making their way around an old fire pit. At the far end of the group of huts, Narali spotted a large building; it would be the former home of their chief. She motioned to Vaeren who nodded and together they began to move towards it.

The first foot planted on the old wooden steps was met with a pained creak and shortly after a resounding _crack_ as the step gave way. Both elves froze as the sound rippled through the tiny village but when their lives did not immediately end, each exhaled and they continued their trek.

They made it to the doorway and as Vaeren gave it a gentle push, Narali peered around him to look inside. A few moments later, they had rummaged around and found – to their displeasure – very little other than a collection of shrunken heads (which Narali had promptly tossed aside with a squeal upon realizing what they were) and a few empty vials. "This is depressing." Vaeren said with a sigh. "It's just an empty house."

"What ya be expectin' mon?" a grizzly voice asked from the darkness. Narali felt her blood chill at the sound. They were caught. Both elves twisted around in surprise, stumbling back against the far wall. In the doorway stood a looming silhouette the shape of a creature neither recognized. His outline looked fierce by itself but complimenting his intimidating figure was the fact that he stood directly in the middle of their only way out.

"What's two le'tl elves doin' here?" he asked them as he took a slow step forward. "Ya come in here unprepared an' ya could very well find yo self on tha wrong end of a troll like me." He said, stepping into the light.

His skin was green, a similar shade of the orcs and he hunched over hiding his towering height. His lack of a shirt revealed a number of battle scars criss-crossing his chest, and one large one on his shoulder that bore the brand of the Amani trolls. His long face had tusks on both sides with one of them broken halfway in, and his mouth curved upwards in an evil grin that gave Narali an unsettling feeling.

"Since ya not talkin', I guess ya be try'n ta decide if you gonna die or not. Lemme help ya with that one." He said with a horrible laugh. His steps quickened as he closed the gap. "You gonna die." He said simply, pointing at Vaeren. "But you," his finger turned to Narali "a preety girl like you be useful in a troll village elfie. We gonna have lots'o fun with you." He cackled. Narali shuddered at his words, not simply their meaning but the way he said them. With a final step the troll drew his axe back towards Vaeren.

At the sight, Narali snapped out of her trance, pushing the rogue off the wall and out of the way moments before the axe crashed into it, splintering the wood where it landed. The troll gave a furious roar and swung around, his axe flying wildly. Narali dodged it through luck, but her inexperience led to her mistake of a momentary pause to watch the troll.

In the brief second she hesitated, the troll's oversized foot met her squarely in the chest and sent her flying back. She crashed into the wall and flew through it, landing with a gasp in the dirt outside. She curled her fingers, clawing for air in an attempt to return some of the breath that had been knocked out of her.

Moments later another crash saw her companion land squarely in the dirt next to her. "Le'tl elfie be done already, and big elfie not even gonna put up a fight?" the troll grinned, brandishing his axe. "Den I guess this be tha end fo you." He said as he brought his axe back up over his shoulder.

With the troll standing directly above Vaeren, the rogue's fate seemed sealed when suddenly time stopped. The troll froze; the two small elves were already frozen. But the changing expression on their enemy's face told them that time somehow had not stopped. His gaze faded from complacency and amusement to confusion and then fear before finally settling on disbelief. It wasn't until the soft zip of the air gave the sound of a second arrow planting itself into his heart that the two elves understood; fate had intervened it seemed.

The troll lost his grip on the axe and it clattered to the ground harmlessly before he stumbled backwards a few steps, and then crashed down into the dirt, dead. Narali's breath hitched as she took in the scene in disbelief. They should be dead. _And yet_…Her head shot around looking for their savior. The relief that had washed over her disappeared instantly as he came into the clear; it was another troll. This one was wielding a fierce bow, and a look that unsettled her. Had they been rescued from one troll only to fall victim to another?

As the large green creature stepped towards them, Narali found fear overtaking her and crawled backwards, attempting to escape him. "S-stay away! P-please!" she yelled upon finding her retreat blocked by the wooden remnants of the wall she had previously crashed through. The troll held up his hands calmly. "Easy now, I'm not gonna hurt ya." His voice was much smoother than the other troll's, even if it was still gritty. His tone held concern. He understood the situation; the elves were young, out of their element, and gripped by fear. Carefully he returned his bow to its normal position, strapped over his back.

"Here mon, look." He said as he did, removing his armored glove and holding out his hand to them. On the back of it was a small tattoo of the symbol of the Darkspear Trolls. Instantly upon seeing it both elves released the breath that they had been holding. Content with his offering, he walked over and knelt before them, examining both elves for injuries. "What you two be doin' out here in da middle o'da night huh? Ya be lookin' ta get killed?" He asked, looking at Vaeren "or worse?" he added as he glanced at Narali.

"W-we wandered too far while exploring." Narali stuttered. Confidence was not something that lent itself to her voice at the moment. "Who are you?" she asked. "Name's Zan'ka." He stated. "An befo' ya ask, I jus be here lookin' fo asses that need savin'." He added, tongue in cheek. Vaeren managed a small chuckle while Narali turned bright red. The rogue spoke for the first time. "Thank you, Zan'ka. If you hadn't been here we would both be dead." Narali recognized his attempts to hide the fear that still gripped them both after the encounter. "Ass-saving aside, what are you doing here?" Vaeren asked. Zan'ka grinned. "Da truth? I never turn down a good chance ta come rile me up some o da Amani. It be not'in oder dan pure dumb luck I be here when ya need me."

Vaeren nodded his understanding. He glanced over at the mage. "Nara, are you ok?" he asked shakily, his voice breaking for the first time. She nodded, not trusting her own voice still. He looked up at the sky. It was pitch black, almost certainly already sometime in the morning. "What now?" he asked. They were far south, in the Ghostlands; the journey back to Silvermoon by foot was not something that either elf found enticing at the moment.

"We gonna get outa here first, dat's what." Zan'ka said. "Come on mon, the lake be in sight just North an dat means da Farstrider Enclave be close. We be stayin' der tonight." He added. Neither elf argued as the group collectively rose and gathered themselves. "Ya two be havin' mounts?" their troll companion asked. Narali shook her head. "No, we walked here."

Zan'ka grunted and then gave a soft whistle, at which a large Mammoth came bounding through the trees. "S'ok, Stompy always be comin' round when I need him." He said. "Magic n' all dat." He chuckled with a dismissive wave. "Get on mon, 'less you wanna be here when da next troll be comin' round."

The large Mammoth had an unusual saddle, with a seat in the middle and two others on either side. It seemed specially crafted for multiple passengers. Once all three had settled on top, their trek began.

"So Zan'ka" Narali said "I presume from your bow you are a hunter?" she added. The troll nodded. "Ya mon, dat be me." He replied. "Have you traveled far?" she asked. He nodded. "I be a traveler like da next guy, I suppose. I been all over, from Kalimdor ta Outlands 'n back ta Northrend. Dis new land been found now, 'Pandaria' dey call it. I be tinkin 'bout goin' dere next."

Narali smiled. She admired the way he spoke of his travels with confidence. He wasn't bragging of them, simply stating them. "We wanted to become adventurers too. This was our first time exploring outside of Eversong." She said. "I guess we've still got some practicing to do." She added sadly.

Zan'ka gave a small chuckle. "Ya don't practice for adventures mon. Ain't not'in in da city or da woods gonna prepare you fo what you find out dere." He said. "Ya just go. An ya take whatever happens an hope ya live through it. If ya do, learn from it an' get better. If ya don't…well, ya don't gotta worry bout whether o not ya practiced enough."

Narali thought on his words quietly for a moment. "Where did you go when you started?" she asked him. "Me? I be from da Islands south of Durotar 'riginally. When I fir's set out I tried ta make da trip 'cross da bay to Ratchet. Made it a quarter o' da way out and me tiny little raft broke up. Had ta swim all da way home and make a new one." He laughed at the memory. "It took me t'ree tries mon, but I learned how ta build a raft. When I did make it I took da boat from Ratchet across da ocean ta Stranglethorn. Met me a hunter dere who taught me everyting I know. Couple o years later here I be, ass-saver extrordinaire." He grinned widely at his own joke.

Narali laughed softly as he recounted the story. Zan'ka looked back at her and Vaeren, who had fallen asleep. "You and ya friend, ya gonna laugh at the day a weak Amani troll almost done ya in soon. Ya wanna be an adventurer? Quit yo practicin and get out dere." He said. "Ain't not'in in the Ghostlands gonna give ya any excitement. It all been conquered already. Zul'aman included."

Narali smiled at him and nodded in understanding. The rest of the short journey was quiet and before long they arrived at their destination. Upon entering the inn, they paid for their rooms and went their separate ways. Narali and Vaeren had to share one due to her leaving her gold behind that morning in their haste to depart the city, but the large room was more than enough space and the rogue agreed to take the rug, which could have been a bed in its own right.

While they settled into their room, Narali recounted his words to Vaeren, who had missed the entire conversation in his sleep. He said little but she could tell they had an impact on him. As each drifted off to sleep, they did not know that the other held the same thoughts. It was dangerous, painful, and would most certainly change them forever, but they couldn't help it.

Adventuring had them hooked.


	7. An Honorable Quest

**A New Hope**

_An Honorable Quest_

Jeran awoke with a start. It was so rare that he woke up with a roof over his head that he had to take a moment to gather his memories from the previous night. Looking around he slowly recognized the small room that had been paid for by his mysterious…_friend?_ The thought was strange to him. The man had been brash at their first meeting in Stormwind, but since then had done nothing but give Jeran money and time to think over his offer. Still however, something about the situation was unsettling. He didn't know what or why, simply that his instincts told him to use caution when dealing with his new employer.

He rolled out of bed and gathered his ragged clothes from the various spots they had landed the night before as he tossed them away. Collecting himself in the morning was another routine that was entirely foreign to the priest in his adopted way of life. It had been a long time since the practice encompassed anything other than getting to his feet, which was in itself a challenge some days.

He slowly descended the stairs, looking for the man that had been the cause of all this but was surprised to find the inn relatively empty, save for the innkeeper who it seemed never left the bar. She was a tired looking old woman, but seemed pleasant enough as he approached her.

"Morning dear, can I get you something to eat?" she asked with a smile. "Please." Jeran replied with a nod. Taking his seat at the same table as the night before, it didn't take her long to deliver a simple meal of bread and milk, to which Jeran had no complaints; he wasn't picky. Just as he picked up his first piece a quiet thud behind him raised his awareness to the man he wanted to see. The stranger joined him at the table wearing his own robes from the night before; except for the change of food it was almost as if the conversation had simply been on pause while they slept, and they were ready to continue it.

Jeran wasted no time. "Right, now before we get into any of this business, there are a couple of things I want to know." He said. The man raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing in response. Jeran decided it was safe to proceed. "First, who are you?" he asked. The man leaned back in his chair and gave a small sigh. "My name is Regalus. I am a Priest as well, though not of the same calling as you." He said. "My specialty is manipulating the Shadows, which is why I cannot perform the resurrection myself." He added. Jeran nodded; fair enough. "How do you know about me and my history?" he continued.

Regalus picked up his own bread and began to munch on it between questions. "I studied at the Cathedral in Stormwind, though that was years ago. You were very popular; it's not uncommon for students to still hear about the former masters of the light that have come and gone through the years. When I heard about one whose specialty was resurrection, I dug deeper and discovered who you were, where you were, and – with some difficulty - why you had given up the light." He said. With a sad smile he added "I can't say I blame you; After all, she was -"Jeran raised a hand. "Enough." He said forcefully.

Regalus relented and took another bite. "Anything else?" he asked. Jeran shook his head. "Not about you. Tell me more about the quest." He said. "She was a friend; a druid." Regalus began. "Unlike me, she chose to join a cause, the Cenarion Expedition. They sent her to Blades Edge to study the Fel Corruption that had been spread by the remnants of the legion. In the course of her investigation, she was captured and killed by a dark cult that inhabits the mountains there." He stated simply.

Jeran couldn't help but note the apparent indifference in Regalus' voice as he recounted the tale. It had been a long time since his mind had had any real work, but he still knew a lie when he was told one. "Right, now let's get something straight." He said. Regalus raised an eyebrow curiously. "I don't care why you want this person brought back if you're paying, but I don't like being _lied to_." He emphasized the last part with disgust. "So last chance. Tell me about the quest."

Regalus smirked. "Come now, I thought we were finally starting to get along." He said. "Tsk. Very well then. It wasn't a complete lie. She _was_ a druid." He chuckled. Noting Jeran's deadpan reaction, he gave a slight scowl before continuing. "She was the master of a guild called _A New Hope_." He said. "Her name was Islana; Lana for short. She was _appealing_ enough, but I never held much interest in her. Her guild is another matter." He added. "It's an interesting group, one similar to the Argent Crusade or the Shattered Sun Offensive in that they don't recognize racial boundaries. Trolls and Tauren mix with Humans and Gnomes, and more. They've never been looked upon kindly by either side for it, but they keep to themselves and stay out of trouble, so it's not something the powers that be want to devote resources to dealing with, with Pandaria ripe for the taking." He said.

"All of that aside, they are…shall we say, _loaded."_ He continued with a smirk. "The sum of their guild coffers is large enough that a man could be quite comfortable for the rest of his life if he were to possess it, and their unfriendly standing with the authorities make them a prime target for someone who had a clever plan to free them of their _burdens._" He said slyly. "Naturally you understand why I didn't want to share with you."

Jeran's deadpan look had transformed into a scowl. "So you want me to help you rob a guild?" he said shortly. Regalus rolled his eyes. "Not one for stories, are you?" He asked sarcastically. "Yes, I want you to help me rob a guild." He added. Jeran leaned back in his chair. "Once again I return to the question of how this involves me" He said.

With a sigh, Regalus continued his story. "Unfortunately, as you apparently _don't_ know, guild coffers can only be accessed by those who have been authorized to do so by the guild master." He said. "An easy problem to solve for someone with a quick tongue", he added. "Coincidentally, such a problem is made significantly _harder_ when the guild master lies dead in a valley in Outland without having transferred power to another. The council for A New Hope meets once a year, and at the next meeting they will elect a new master; but I am rather impatient, if a bit of coin and magic on your end can speed up the process."

Jeran didn't know if it bothered him more that he would willingly help the man, or that it really didn't bother him that much in the first place to do so. Either way, he felt contentment at knowing the full story, even if it was less than honorable. He was by no means evil, but if a guild couldn't protect what they had, what business of his was it? He would have to keep aware however, as the true nature of his companion was now revealed.

After a short pause, he turned his gaze to Regalus. "Aye then, I'll need a few things before we go." He said. "New robes, potions, and the like." Regalus gave him another sack of coins. "Use some for the flight to Stormwind and some to get back, but the rest is yours to spend on gear. Meet me back here this afternoon, I will procure horses for us and we'll leave then." He said. With a nod, Jeran turned towards the flight master.

* * *

It was later in the day than he expected when he returned, but as promised Regalus sat waiting for him at his same table inside the inn. Jeran had purchased a complete set for himself, consisting of a new pair of comfortable Embersilk boots and pants, as well as a fresh wool shirt. In place of the traditional priestly robe, he had opted for a simple cloak with a hood to pull up since he had never been one for style. _Why should I wear a dress around? _ He had mused to a colleague in the Cathedral once, to which she had only rolled her eyes.

At his side was a satchel which contained several loaves of bread and a collection of health and mana potions, conveniently divided into small vials that could be downed in a single gulp if needed. Hanging off the opposite side was another smaller pouch; this one containing only what was left of the money. The most notable addition however was only a small dagger that he had found from a man near the city's auction house who was glad to be rid of it.

His new clothes were simple, but functional. The more decorated mercenaries and nobles of the Alliance (and he presumed the Horde) wore enchanted robes which augmented the wearer's natural power, but he was far too simple for that. If it kept him dry in the rain, and warm in the cold, he was happy.

With a quick nod to each other, the two men rose atop their horses and set off without much conversation. At the end of the small town, they turned East and as the calm rustle of life died away behind them, Jeran's mind drifted to the days to come. They would be heading to the Dark Portal, undoubtedly. To get there, they would go through bandits in Elwynn, Worgen in Duskwood, Spiders in Deadwind Pass, Orcs in the Swamp of Sorrows, and Demons in the Blasted Lands. And that was only the first half of the trip.

His thoughts were broken up only by a grunt from the side, to which he turned to see his partner looking up at the sky. "We'll camp here for the night." He said simply. With a nod Jeran followed as they turned to make their way into a small clearing off the road far enough that a passing traveler or bandit wouldn't spot them.

Before too long, the furs that would be their beds had been laid out, and Regalus had slipped into his and drifted off to sleep. Jeran however sat awake. Over the course of the day he had become acutely aware of an unsettling feeling. At first, he had dismissed it as simply a bad morning, but when his hands had started shaking, he understood the cause well.

Quietly, he dug into his satchel to the bottom where he found another large vial; if it could be called that – really it was more of a jug. He had picked it up earlier in Stormwind but hidden it to avoid an unnecessary conversation about his reliability. Tearing out the cork he turned it up and felt the relief as his addiction was sated, the alcohol running through him at first like fire, and then like a soothing drink of water. A second drink followed the first, and then a third and a fourth. Before long the jug was empty and without ever making it to his feet he rolled sloppily to the side missing his makeshift bed entirely but passed out comfortably nonetheless. There he lay, well fed, in comfortable clothes and on a quest for the first night in years, but under the stars yet again.

Just the way he liked it.


	8. The Adventure Begins

**A New Hope**

_The Adventure Begins_

When Narali had flopped down into her bed after her adventure at Zul'Aman, the quiet relief her body felt had been welcome. If her mind had been less fatigued, she may have remembered what came next with less enthusiasm. Instead, the pain that came after being tossed around and beaten like a rag doll had to force its presence on her, intruding upon what was until then a comfortable sleep. After a few brief moments of pained thought, the two had decided to stay an extra day at the inn to rest before returning the previous evening to Silvermoon. Narali was happy to wake up in her own bed, even if the pain had not completely faded quite yet.

"_Anar'alah belore" _she cursed, sitting bolt upright and rubbing her arms. This in turn, enraged her sore body and brought forth another string of less than innocent words. Narali flopped back down unceremoniously on her bed, thanking the light for the simple relief that came with not moving. After laying still for what seemed like another hour, she decided to tempt reality yet again, more cautiously this time. Slowly she lifted herself up, to the protest of her abdomen. With each tiny movement, she found the pain became more bearable. It would die away soon she knew, once she shook off the stillness of sleep. Minutes later, she found herself standing free of her bed. "_Never thought I would be glad just to be able to get up"_she mused to herself.

At precisely that moment, A small glow flared up from somewhere in a corner of the room. Seconds later, another soft burst of light teased her curiosity, and with the third glow she began to take gentle steps over. Peering back into a small crevice formed by the frame of her balcony and a bookshelf, she caught sight of Mishi.

The tiny Celestial Dragon was curled up asleep. With each breath, his translucent frame heaved gently, and the glow returned. On particularly deep breaths, it would grow bright enough to be visible from other parts of the room. Silently, the tiny creature slept, lost in whatever dreams Celestial Dragons dreamt. Narali watched her glowing pet for a few moments before the stark and unbearably cute realization hit her with one bright burst of glowing starlight.

"_He's snoring." _

She almost squealed out loud, and a smile burst from her lips as the creature continued to silently pulse. Unable to resist the urge, she reached down gently and softly stroked an exposed wing. A tiny celestial foot kicked softly at the air and a sleepy "_Mrr" _filled the room as the creature responded, still asleep. This time, Narali did squeal, unable to help herself.

At the sound, Mishi simply opened an eye, gauging his surroundings before unfurling from his comfortable ball and rolling over onto his back. Tiny claws flexed as he awoke, and then with a burst of energy he returned to his feet, and jumped up, taking flight. Shaking the grogginess of sleep off, he steadied himself before hovering around Narali, who had taken in the entire scene with a smile still spread across her face.

"_Mrr!" _came the sound again. Narali wondered if he might be hungry. _"What do Celestial Dragons eat anyways?"_ she asked herself aloud. She thought back to the day she had paid for him, recalling the conversation with the man at the Auction House who had been selling him.

* * *

"Is he like any normal dragon?" Narali had asked.

"Does he look like any normal dragon?" The man had replied with a grin.

"No, he doesn't. But that's not what I meant. What does he eat? How can you play with him? Will he still behave like a normal pet?" she asked again.

"Of course, of course. He's still a loving little creature. They'll eat just about anything you want to put in front of them, and this one's got an appetite big enough that he may well need it too!" At this, the vendor had jerked his thumb towards Mishi, who did a small circle in the air.

"I'll take him!" She had proclaimed with a smile.

* * *

Right. So he didn't need anything special. That was good, seeing as most of her food had been lost in the troll attack, and she hadn't quite gathered the strength to make it down to buy more yet. Rummaging through what little she hadn't left behind in her haste, she found her last two apples, one of which she set on a nearby table for Mishi and the other she took for herself.

The movements of the morning so far had relaxed much of the soreness in her muscles, and she felt well enough to move around a bit. She made her way to the washroom and summoned a small water elemental which promptly filled the tub with steaming water. After undressing, she calmly slipped into it, all the way to her neck and closed her eyes, letting the heat do its work.

What little complaints her body still had died away quickly as the muscles were massaged by the hot water, and she felt the remaining pain melt away in sheets. For almost an hour she lay there, ignoring the world outside and simply enjoying the sensation of warmth. Her thoughts drifted from her magic, to the adventure, to her rogue friend.

"Vaeren'thor".

She spoke his name quietly, simply to hear how it rolled off of her tongue rather than out of any deeper thoughts. He was interesting. Despite the fact that they had several days together training now, and he had been with her through the entire ordeal last night, she realized that they barely knew each other. He was a rogue. Most of the time, she knew from that fact alone that she would not like someone. Rogues were dirty, in both the figurative and literal sense. Many of them lived in the gutters, or worse, in the back alleys of Murder Row.

Rogues lied, stole, and cheated. They only thoughts of themselves; If your companion was a rogue, you were better off not having a companion at all. Some might even take a chance to backstab you and take what you had, if they wanted it.

And yet, that wasn't the sense that she got from _this_ rogue. He was dirty in a literal sense, of that it was obvious. His armor was ragged and his hair was always a mess, but figuratively? She didn't know. He hadn't left her last night. In fact, when the opportunity had arisen, he hadn't even shown signs that he had considered it. But was that just her perception, or was it reality? She didn't know, but she knew that if nothing else, she considered him a friend. Until he gave her a reason to think otherwise, that was how it would stay.

Finally she rose, and began the process of drying. The towel felt like silk over her refreshed body and her dark red hair fell down her back as it dried, shining with a gloss that spoke to its refreshed cleanliness.

The robes came next. Those she had worn for training normally had been utterly destroyed in the fight, with rips up both sides and the back and the better part of one sleeve missing entirely. She had simply discarded them, and today donned a simple red variation that fit her form much better than the older ones that she no longer could use, sticking tightly to her curves while still somehow allowing the flexibility she would need as a mage.

Finally, she made her way downstairs. Her father had left for the day, to where she did not know, and her mother had apparently gone with him, so she went unnoticed as she left the house, slipping out into the quiet square. As she walked – unsure of her destination - her mind once again drifted, this time to the night of their adventure; to her troll rescuer. What had he said?

_"Ya don't practice for adventures mon. Ain't not'in in da city or da woods gonna prepare you fo what you find out dere."_

She paused slightly, allowing one of the brooms that swept the city to sweep its way by before continuing on, lost in thought.

_"Ya just go. An ya take whatever happens an hope ya live through it. If ya do, learn from it an' get better. If ya don't…well, ya don't gotta worry bout whether o not ya practiced enough."_

She knew he was right. When he had spoken the words, it had seemed as if a veil had been pulled back and she saw, for the first time, how utterly foolish the entire routine of practicing had been. Not because she didn't need the practice – her spells failing her the night before was proof enough that she did – but rather because there were simply some things you couldn't practice. Like surviving in a pinch, or being aware of enemies sneaking up on you.

As she walked, her mind ran through the events over and over. With the sudden hint of a thought, felt as simply as a pin prick, she realized the path that fate would yet lay before her. She could not see the end of it, but she knew the beginning. Turning down a street that led to a darker part of the city, she headed off towards Murder Row where she knew she would find the only other person who might think this was the right thing to do.

* * *

Vaeren strode up to the bar casually, and flipped the barkeeper a coin, taking a swig of the frothy mug that he received in return without saying a word. He was a regular around here. The innkeeper knew what he liked, and dispensed with the pleasantries for both of their sake. Not that there were many pleasantries to be had in Murder Row anyways. Most everyone was quiet, either because they wanted to be left alone, or because they were looking for victims.

For the sake of not becoming a victim, Vaeren always tempered his drinking, but that did not stop him from enjoying what drink he did have. On those days – such as today, when his body was on fire – when he needed the kick, this was the only spot in the world that he wanted to be. He wondered if Nara was just as sore. All things considered, they had both been relatively lucky; other than bruises and minor scrapes, there were no injuries to them. The soreness was a small price to pay, but it would fade in a day or two more.

As he finished his drink – much quicker than he hoped he would - he rose with a nod to the barkeeper and silently left. Strolling outside his eye caught a nearby cart parked in front of the inn. No doubt the owner was making a delivery then. With a casual glance around he checked to see if anyone important was watching, and then hopped into the back of the cart and pried up the top of a crate resting there. _"Perfect, I was getting hungry too"_ he said to himself, smiling as he pulled out a freshly baked loaf of bread.

As he pulled his head back, the top of the crate dropped down and he jumped off the back of the cart, stumbling a bit. When he rose, he was surprised to find someone unexpected staring back at him.

"Wha-?" he mumbled, startled slightly, before realizing who it was.

"Oh…Hello Nara." He said with a relieved sigh. His companion stood before him with an amused but slightly disapproving look on her face. There were a few other things different too. She usually wore a faded blue dress, but he recalled it had been destroyed the night of the attack. Instead, she wore a curvy red one today. It fit her well, he noted mentally. In addition, her hair – usually pulled back in a pony tail – was freely flowing. It was longer than he had expected it would be, reaching halfway down her back. If he hadn't looked directly at her, he might have walked away without noticing it was her.

"Is this normally how you get your food?" she asked with a slight scowl. He nodded in reply, tearing a chunk of the loaf away and stuffing it in his mouth. Motioning her, the two began walking towards brighter parts of the city. Murder Row may have been his home, but it wasn't exactly the best home around. He would gladly spend time elsewhere when he could.

Swallowing the bite, he turned to her. "Nice coincidence finding you here." He said.

"It wasn't exactly a coincidence." She replied.

"Oh?" he asked with a laugh.

She shook her head. Noticing her somewhat serious demeanor, he paused and turned to her more directly. "Is everything ok?" he asked, wondering if perhaps she had been injured last night after all.

"Yes, everything is fine" she said calmly. "I was thinking earlier, though…" she paused slightly, unsure even now if she knew what she wanted. She thought she did, but to say the words, to give them weight, make them reality was different.

"And…?" asked Vaeren.

"I'm leaving Silvermoon." She said with finality. "Something Zan'ka said last night stuck in my mind. I'm ready to get out and see the world."

Vaeren walked on with her silently for a moment, lost in his own thoughts before he gave his own simple reply. "When do we leave?"

At his words, Narali burst into a smile. "You're coming then?" she asked excitedly. He gave a small laugh. "Of course. I wouldn't be left behind for the world." He said. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"I don't know. I kind of wanted to see Outland." Narali replied. To this Vaeren gave a small whistle. "You're not one for baby steps are you?" he mused. Narali grinned and shook her head. "We'll have to go south, nearly all the way. We'll get to see the entirety of the Eastern Kingdoms before we reach the Dark Portal."

Vaeren couldn't suppress the smile that burst forth. After a few more words, the two each headed off to collect their things and prepare for the next morning when they would set out, finally starting an adventure.

Narali didn't know much about the path to the Dark Portal, but that was half the fun. All she knew was that there were people in the world seeing the sights outside of their homeland, and she wanted desperately to join them.

Finally, she knew she would.

* * *

**A/N:**

Rereading this, I've already noticed that it's taking longer to get to the major plot points than I intended. I'm going to try making longer chapters, but fewer in between the key points.

Also, something big coming for Jeran next chapter. Stay tuned.


End file.
